


Consistency

by themoistplinth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Broken Team, I was sad and this happened, M/M, Sad lance, angsty, damaged shiro, huge time gap between VLD and this fic, it's my fave thing I've ever written, please read it to the end, sad pidge, short but worth the read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoistplinth/pseuds/themoistplinth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance just wants a little bit more consistency in his life-thirty years of forming Voltron has taken its toll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consistency

Lance sat in his room staring at the floor-his face was like a stone, cold and unmoving. He stared at the floor a lot; it was a constant in his life. No matter how much space was between him and Earth, between him anyone he once knew, the floor of his bunk was always the same. Constants were rare for Lance and even something as simple as his floor could bring him constant comfort, a sad statement of Lance’s life.  


Lance sighed as he stared-he felt drained. He always felt drained; he had for the last few years. At the start of the adventure Voltron was just that-an adventure, something that he could spend his life doing. He could make new friends across the universe and travel to amazing new worlds with diverse peoples and exotic environments.  


But the adventure grew old-only so many times could Lance step out onto a scorching desert and be dazzled by the shining sun, or save a species from Galra oppression and enjoy their banquets in his honour. The joy of flying his lion to form a giant robot was even dull to him, nothing but routine. The paladins of Voltron. Once again forming Voltron.  


Twenty years of the same, yet never granting consistency enough for Lance to live a life.  


The floor was his one consistency, as his body grew older and changed, as his world was wrecked and rebuilt from the pieces only to crumble again. Losing a leg was just another change for Lance, he barely even felt it nowadays. He never smiled anymore-like Coran would have once said, smiling is a young man’s game.  


Lance missed Coran.  


The ship lurched; Pidge’s control over ships never the same after losing two fingers to a Galra soldier’s blade. He seemed shaken by that , two fingers jarring him permanently. Lance would have joked that fingers were nothing compared to a leg but he didn’t care enough to joke about things like that nowadays.  


Hunk poked his head around Lance’s door corner-after the last attack on the ship blasted off Lance’s door he’d never replaced it, not seeing the point when it would just be destroyed again.  


Hunk was the least worse for wear out of all of them-he’d never once lost any part of him, personality or otherwise. He was more subdued but only for their sake-a loud noise could send Pidge into a panic and talking too much around Shiro tended to make him zone out from the world for a few moments. Whenever he’d return he tended to have forgotten something else, someone else.  


“We’re about to land,” Hunk said quietly to Lance, eyes looking anywhere in Lance’s room but at Lance himself, “If you want to see Keith now is your chance”.  


Lance felt something stir in his chest, low and strong. He felt Keith-he felt what he felt for Keith at least. The only real consistency he’d ever received out in space was Keith, always Keith. He would always have something dry to say or some look that would make Lance’s stomach flutter. He’d smirk or scowl and just look so…Keith. Not a day would go by that Lance wouldn’t despise himself for not confessing his feelings sooner, prolonging the love for as long as possible. When Keith had left Voltron all those years ago Lance’s heart had broken.  


Lance pulled his eyes away from the stable, constant, unmoving floor and dragged himself through the hallways of the Castle of Lions. Despite Hunk and Shiro’s best efforts dust had settled on every surface. The lights flickered and entire sections of hallways and rooms could stay untouched for weeks at a time. One such room untouched was Keith’s-sometimes Lance would go in there but it was too much, like vertigo.  


Lance approached the hanger doors, Shiro sitting nervously nearby with his visor tinted so that he wouldn’t have to see as much as the rest of them. Too many sensations at once would hurt him if he wasn’t expecting them. Pidge was still with Allura in the control room presumably, the two of them rarely leaving for anything except missions. As if Allura would want to leave that room anymore; if anyone had grown more tired than Lance of fighting Galra than Keith or Lance, it was Allura. She’d lost the most, her world, her father, the last member of her race, her hope.  


Allura wasn’t quite Allura anymore-Allura was empty.  


“We’ll let you go down first,” Hunk nodded to Lance, “Warm him up to us”.  


Lance nodded and remained silent-he had to save his words for Keith, if he spoke too much he would break down much like Shiro would if spoken to too much.  


The castle ramp lowered and Lance looked out across the alien landscape of Keith’s home-it was always changing, the colour of the sky never quite stable, the purple dirt constantly shifting under Lance’s feet. The smell of the planet seemed to change from day to day-today it was lavender. Keith would have probably placed some of it out; he had always told Lance how much he loved lavender as he hooked his hands in Lance’s lazily under alien stars.  


Lance walked down the ramp, feeling his missing leg more than he ever would when not visiting Keith-something about losing it when Keith wasn’t there to help him made him feel like he’d somehow disappointed Keith, that he managed to lose a part of himself just because he wasn’t there.  


Lance stepped on the shifting purple dirt and trudged along to the meadow Keith called home-it was full of long white reeds. A carved stone stood at its entrance, the words faded, not that Lance needed to see them to know what they said. Lance brushed his hand gently across the stone.  


“Hello Keith,” he smiled as a single tear dropped down his face, “It’s me”.  

**Author's Note:**

> I guess someone else would have to be the red paladin, personally I think Rolo would fit that.
> 
> Also I want you all to cry


End file.
